


Like Blood In The Mouth

by jettiebettie



Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Blood, Injury, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-19
Updated: 2016-03-26
Packaged: 2018-05-27 14:54:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6288898
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jettiebettie/pseuds/jettiebettie
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“Oh well of-fucking-course,” Grog says. “We send the bookworm to scout out first and he gets all the fun!”</p><p>Vax barely hears him though. He’s too focused on the splattering of bright red that stands out against the streaks of congealed brown on stone near the entrance of their keep.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Returning home should have been an easy matter, but when has anything in their lives lately been such? And now? Now there are bodies strewn out across the courtyard, undead warriors made dead once more by various means. Percy’s handy work is evident in nearly every aspect, from the punctures wounds of a rapier to the huge fucking holes littering torsos and rending skulls asunder to the heavy scent of gunpowder in the air. It’s really fucking impressive, actually, the sheer number of ruined corpses that are decorating their front yard. 

“Oh well of-fucking-course,” Grog says. “We send the bookworm to scout out first and _he_ gets all the fun!”

Vax barely hears him though. He’s too focused on the splattering of bright red that stands out against the streaks of congealed brown on stone near the entrance of their keep. He leaves the group and their servants where they’re examining the bodies, feet quickly taking him inside and eyes following the trail of blood that leads down towards the basement. Vax’s heart is in his throat, the cold rush of his pulse making him shiver. Looters and squatters, maybe some frightened wildlife. That’s all, if any, that they were expecting to be here, not a fucking undead horde from who-the-fuck knows where, _what the fuck happened?_

He’d ask Percy himself, if the sight of a body at the bottom of the stairs didn’t stop Vax in his tracks. It’s clearly not human, tail and cloven feet peaking from under dark and heavy robes, and Vax holds for a moment with his hand on a dagger, waiting for movement. But the form is lifeless and still and Vax soon sees why as he cautiously descends further, the exit wound of a large caliber bullet still steaming slightly from the back of the tiefling’s head. 

And looking up, he finally sees Percival, body just barely propped against the bars of one of the cells, head bent and blood dripping from his mouth. His arms are limp at his sides, to the left of which lies Bad News and the shattered remains of his glasses. Vax doesn’t breathe, refuses to until he sees Percy do the same, but the man is just as still as his victim and Vax gives in, exhaling shakily as he steps around the tiefling. 

“Brother,” he hears Vex say through his earring, irritation clear in her tone. “Do me a favor? When I die - er, again - sew all of my gold into my breeches and tunic. At least then if I’m summoned to do some bastard’s bidding, the glorious hero who puts me back down can actually be _rewarded for it._ ” 

Vax reaches a hand out to the ugly, gaping wound in Percy’s shoulder, so close to his fragile human heart. He jerks it back when feels the still-warm torn skin through the hole of his coat, soaked through now with blood and sweat.

“By the way, where’d you run off to this time? Did you find Percy? Ask him if he’s already picked through their stuff.”

Hearing that name spurs Vax out of his nauseated shock, if for a moment. In its place, a strange burning anger causes him to grit his teeth together and clench his fists. 

“Wake up,” he whispers, eyes boring into Percy’s hanging head. “You don’t get to do this, you hear me? You have so much to apologize for still, now wake up and get to it.” He gets nothing, not even the prolonged sigh of a indignant noble, just the silent indifference of a corpse. After everything, after beholders and vampires and dragons, his friend is here and he’s gone and Vax finds it hard to breathe again.

“Vax’ildan, for fuck’s sake, we’ve talked about the moody baby thing. Cut it out and say something before I find you myself,” his sister warns.

He doesn’t _want_ to say anything. He _wants_ to throw up, he _wants_ to stop shaking, he _wants_ to scream, he _wants_ to pull Percy close to feel what warmth still resides until it’s gone.

He slaps the shit out of him instead. 

The sound is deafening in the echoing silence of the basement and it’s only cathartic for about half a second before Percy is wincing and sucking in a shuddering breath, which is really fucking rude of a dead man, pretending to be alive when Vax is already halfway through a breakdown.

“Ow,” he wheezes, eyes opening widely before squinting from the lack of his spectacles. Vax stares wide eyed, offending hand hovering in the air before he turns towards the stairs and shouts as loudly as he can.

“Vex! VEX’AHLIA! Get your ass down here!” Turning around, he sees Percy tipping his head back in a futile effort to distance himself from the sudden, ear piercing sound. The arm of his injured shoulder tries to lift, but Percy gives out a hiss, the fingers of that hand having difficulty even bending. Percy opens his eyes again, pain and exhaustion clear as anything in them as he looks at Vax and gives a small, smart-ass smile.

“We had visitors,” he says lightly and, even as he hears the others running down the stairs to them, Vax _wants_ to slap him again.

He kisses him instead.

And immediately rears back just as Vex reaches them, his face contorted and sleeve coming up to his mouth. 

“ _Ugh, there’s so much blood in there!_ ” 

Vex, whose hands are now framing Percy’s face, pauses in leaning close at her brother’s words before thinking twice and kissing Percy on the forehead. Pulling back, she brings her hands to his wound and begins a healing spell as Keyleth kneels on the other side to aid her. 

“The man’s dying and you slipped him tongue?” Scanlan asks, digging around in his pouch for a healing potion. Vax continues dragging his tongue against his sleeve while he flips Scanlan off. “I’m not judging! I’m actually impressed. Kind of. A bit.” Vax glares at him before looking to the see if the girls are making progress. He catches Percy’s eye in that moment, feels himself turn red slightly at the look of naked fondness there, blood smeared lips again in that smart-ass smirk. 

Vax doesn’t know what his heart is doing but it’s overwhelming enough that he feels the need to retreat, so he does, pushing back into the shadows and vanishing.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So. This took on a life of its own. I honestly meant to leave it with Percy whumpage and a really contrived kiss, but then I kept thinking about the aftermath (you know, like an idiot) and things got serious.

There is apparently something about Percival, some innate and passive quality which makes it easy as breathing to forgive him his misdeeds and mistakes. It’s the only conclusion Vax can come to, the only explanation to account for everyone’s effortless absolution of his past actions, the consequences of which still have Vax waking up in the middle of the night, covered in a cold sweat and hands gripped tight enough to cause his knuckles to ache. 

At the moment he does his best not to jab too forcefully at his food, watching out of the corner of his eye as Pike tends to Percy. The last to return to the keep, she’d barely had her fill of breakfast before noticing how gingerly he had been holding his left arm to his side. The rest are all too excited to tell her of his oh-so valiant defense of their home as she begins to pray and lay hands on. But Vax pushes his plate away in agitation when she doesn’t so much as chastise Percy or give him a stern look as he had hoped she would. No, like all the others, she congratulates his bravery and tells him how happy she is that he’s (mostly) alright. 

However, even his own still-simmering anger wanes a bit when the soft, divine glow around Pike’s hands fade and Percy curls his fingers without resistance or pain. The small, thankful smile he gives her is enough to make Vax’s chest feel so warm he has to look away. Damned innate quality, indeed. He steels himself, intentionally brings up the memory of that sickening moment when he saw his sister’s body prone on the ground in that forgotten temple, more recently felt when he discovered Percy in the basement. And like that he resists the charm, looks back at that smile and feels nothing. 

He steadfastly ignores the phantom taste of blood in his mouth. 

It’s not difficult to catch Percy alone. Scanlan and Grog have made it their personal mission to create an effigy out of the undead that are still out front as a warning to all other potential invading assholes, and the girls are outside as well, Pike and Keyleth to voice their displeasure, Vex to supervise its construction. 

Arm back to its full functionality, Percy has returned to his workshop, intent on taking stock of all his supplies and tools, gathering up sketch sheets that have found their way onto the floor here and there. Vax watches him from the door for a bit, taking in the casual dress and rolled up sleeves. He’s wearing his crafting clothes, a loose soot stained shirt and dark trousers, both a clear sign that he fully intends to return to his work the moment he feels everything is in its place, and so soon after being healed.

“It wouldn’t do to out pace yourself, Percival,”  Vax says, relishing a little in the minute jump and startled intake of breath.

“… Percy’s fine,” the man himself says, straightening and looking towards Vax with a mix of apprehension and hopeful expectation. 

“Is he?” Vax asks, because he isn’t feeling amiable right now, hasn’t for some time. “I seem to recall him knocking on death’s door not but a few hours ago. Surely he can take a day’s rest after such a display of reckless bravado.” He watches the hope fade as wariness takes hold, causing Percy’s lips to form a thin line.

“Reckless bravado,” he repeats. 

“What else would you call it? Noble heroism? We certainly can’t call it a display of intelligence. That assumes you’d have let us know something was wrong, or at least have waited until we’d caught up,” Vax says, arms folded. He expects a repeat of the events following Vex’s death, that Percy will give broken worded apologies and take Vax’s ire. He’s surprised when, instead, Percy squares his shoulders, eyes narrowing towards him as he frowns, decidedly not from the lack of his glasses.

“I find it hard to take such accusations from you of all people,” is the cold reply. Vax’s teeth click with how quickly his closes his mouth. A heavy silence stretches between them, before Percy sighs and visibly deflates. “I’m sorry,” he says, glancing tiredly to his unlit forge. “It was not my intention face our keep’s invaders head on. However, unlike yourself, I am not always so stealthy.” He dips his head in sheepish acquiescence. “I had to make do with an… undesirable situation.”  

“We seem to find ourselves in undesirable situations more and more these days,” Vax says, eyes glued to Percy’s hands, his sides, his boots, anything to avoid looking at him directly, the pull of that charm already too great. It’s impossible to not look up when Percy steps forward once, hardly bridging the distance between them in the room, but enough to startle Vax into catching his eye. Percy brow is drawn in a concerned furrow, but he gives Vax another of his small smiles.

“Nothing we’ve yet been unable to bounce back from,” he says. And like that, the softening edges of Vax’s heart and mind harden again. 

“It’s that simple for you, isn’t it?” he asks, teeth clenched. Taken aback, Percy leans away. “As long as the damage isn’t permanent, why the fuck should all the rest matter, am I right?” Vax laughs humorlessly. “My sister has forgiven you without reservation, Pike was able to mend your arm after your own brush with death; surely nothing else in the world needs correcting.” His anger is nearly back full force, though he’s not even sure what he’s angry about most; Vex, Percy… or how even now there’s a part of Vax that wants to let all of this rage and distrust go. 

“What can I do?” Percy asks quietly after a still moment, the fight from before now replaced with a resigned sadness. “Vax, how can I make this right between us?”

“I certainly don’t want a bunch of fancy arrows,” Vax says bitterly, remembering how cheaply his sister’s affections and favor were bought. Percy blinks in confusion.

“You… want me to make you something?” he asks, as if the thought had never crossed his mind. And it shouldn’t have. Vax doesn’t want his guilt-ridden innovations, he’s trying to make a point, goddamnit. But instead of saying that, instead of forcing himself to remain here any longer, lest he do something stupid like _forgive the man_ just to wipe that heartbreakingly pathetic look off his face, he does what Scanlan calls “pulling a Vax” and what his sister calls “annoying as fuck.”

He turns and leaves without word.

-

A couple of weeks pass. There’s a hefty awkwardness in the keep that Scanlan never fails to point out whenever Vax and Percy are in the same room for too long, but for the most part, the majority of Vox Machina's time is spent either helping rebuild Emon or in meetings with the rest of the Council and various pillars of the community. There are those in the city who wish for Salda to take her husband’s place as Sovereign, so that the children of Uriel might one day take up his mantle. However, an equally vocal portion of the population call for new blood, as the fortitude of the Tal’dorei line has been called into question given the events leading up to Uriel willfully stepping down. Less supported are those who wish to see a new kind of rule in Emon and its territories entirely.

All of these talks leave Vax with a headache and once again questioning how it is that they have all come to be here, standing as key figures in the political fate of a kingdom. His father never had any interest in teaching him or Vex’ahlia the subtleties of rule and they never had any interest in learning. 

There are moments, when people are talking over one another and others are whispering opinions behind backs, that Vax catches himself wishing Percy would attend these meetings with him. Though he claims to have spent his studies solely in the sciences and none in political intrigue, there is no doubt that Percival is a nobleman born and bred, far better equipped to parse through the bullshit and really get to the matter at hand. But Vax hasn’t spoken to Percy since walking out that day. Asking for anything after that would feel like losing. 

Vax isn’t sure what, exactly, he’d be losing, but he wagers good money on his pride.

Irritably, he still finds himself drawn down to the basement from time to time, the request on his tongue. He’ll stare at the reinforced door for a full half hour, waffling between sheepishness and outright annoyance. What could he possibly be doing in there that’s more important than rebuilding their home or watching shifty people make shifty suggestions during shifty debates? 

Destroying his own brain is apparently the answer. Vex has to drag him to the dinner table one night, his white hair in every direction possible, dark rings under his eyes, and a look of pain etched all over his face. 

“You look like shit,” Grog so eloquently voices everyone’s thoughts. 

“Just a small headache, I assure you,” Percy says, voice brittle from disuse, eyes squinting over in Grog’s direction. 

“Darling, when _are_ you going to get your glasses fixed? Looking at the world fuzzy is probably what’s got your head hurting,” Vex tells him, running a hand through his hair in an effort to tame it somewhat. 

“Afraid I haven’t had the time to do it myself. I’m in the middle of a rather… involved process.” Percy says, turning to thank Laina as she sets a plate in from of him and pats his arm good-naturedly. 

“Just pay someone,” Scanlan says between bites. 

“There’s a glass maker setting up shop in the Promenade! He makes lenses for telescopes too. Maybe he can fix your glasses,” Keyleth suggests. 

“It might be worth looking into,” Percy concedes, rubbing his forehead. “At a later date, I fear. I’m very busy at the moment-” Before Vax can throw his fork at the man’s head for his stubborn work ethic, his sister beats him to it, her hand coming up to smack the backside of his head. Percy hisses, eyes squeezed tight against the added pain to his already hurting skull.

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Vex says. “Tomorrow, you and I are going into town and we’re getting those damn things repaired. You need fresh air, dear, you can only breathe in soot for so long.”

-

Tools in hand, Vax kneels down in front of the workshop door. The imposing structure causes a shadow of doubt in his chest and he blames that unease for how long it takes him to jimmy the lock. Half an hour and three (expensive, hard to come by, _expensive_ ) picks later, he’s pushing the heavy door open and then closed behind him. Making sure to walk in the footsteps Percy had left in the fine metallic dust and inert residual black powder on the ground, Vax makes his way to the easel desk propped against one of the sides of the room. 

Percy’s sketchbook lies closed there, practically begging for Vax to continue his snooping. Glancing back at the door and wondering how much longer he has until Vex and Percy return from their town trip, he carefully makes his way over and very gingerly picks up a corner of the book. He immediately sees several heavily detailed drawings of guns, some small, some as large as Bad News, others somewhere in between, the styles of which Vax has never seen Percy wield. Is this what’s been keeping him so occupied? A new gun? 

Frowning and unimpressed, Vax flips a couple of pages before he sees a sketch he can’t quite make out. He glances to the hastily scrawled notes made out to the sides in order to make sense of what he’s looking at, but if anything it only confuses him more.

 _aluminum, magnesium, zinc, potential other materials?_  
_~~Enhanced Fire~~_  
_~~Molten Rain (too dramatic?)~~_  
~~_Exothermic Reactive Powder (too long/specific)_~~  
_Thermite_

Nonsense, all of it. Vax moves on. Close to the end of the pages, he notices almost immediately a tear near the spine of the otherwise fully intact sketchbook. A missing page, he realizes. A quick check shows that whatever page was taken was the last thing Percival penned. Intrigued, Vax looks about the room, trying to find some clue as to what the mystery invention might be. 

First glance of Percy’s work bench shows Vax his bullet molds and tightly shut containers of black powder. On the table in the middle of the room are various pieces of his guns, replacement parts and tinkering tools scattered out in a strangely orderly fashion. His forge, investigation reveals, has seen the most recent use. Embers are still smoldering slightly and, now that Vax bothers to notice, the scent of metal is sharp in the air. Perhaps molding the barrel to one of the sketched guns? But metal isn’t all that is sitting on the small table next to the forge. Long, broken pieces of the white stone from Percy’s homeland are laid out, some seemingly polished while others are coarse. 

Tentatively, Vax picks one up and turns it over. There’s an opalescent quality to the stone that makes it unquestionably beautiful. He wonders what the stone is used for most; enchanted jewelry, magically fortified buildings? Perhaps Percy is using it to enchant one of his guns again. Still, nothing Vax has seen impresses upon him the reason for Percy’s single-minded work schedule. 

A sudden noise from outside makes him jump and immediately hug a shadowed wall. After many long seconds waiting for the workshop door to open, Vax realizes that it isn’t going to, and that he should probably get the fuck out now while he can. He returns the piece of stone to its place and rushes to peek out, seeing Kindrick walking the halls and whistling, presumably on patrol. Had it been Jarett, Vax fears his brief B&E would have been discovered. As it is, he thanks his luck and slips out when Kindrick rounds the corner, bending down and bringing out his tools. 

 _Re-locking_ a door is not something he’s had much practice with, and his poor lockpicks suffer for it.

-

It’s actually a few hours before they get home. Vax spends the majority of it tying small bells to the various limbs and fingers that poke out of the side of Scanlan and Grog’s effigy. Despite the slowed rate of decomposition due to clever use of ice magic, spring is still close at hand and summer will soon follow. Those two will have to take this monstrosity down eventually and if the discord of tuneless bells in the wind doesn’t annoy them into action, Vax imagines he’ll just have to set it on fire himself. Keyleth and Pike will thank him, surely.

He’s only just finished when Percy and Vex return. He watches his sister storm into the keep, face an impressive red as she mutters angrily under breath, Trinket trailing behind her morosely. Percy trails back even further, a package in hand as he walks with his head down and guilt written on his newly bespectacled face. The glasses look almost identical to his old ones, so Vax readily assumes they are not the problem. 

“What’ve you done now?” he hears himself ask. Right away he wants to slap himself, the first words he’s spoken to Percy in nearly three weeks and that’s what comes out of his mouth. Thankfully Percy doesn’t seem insulted. If anything, seeing Vax causes him to brighten, the likes of which makes Vax’s chest tighten again.

“Oh good, you’re here,” Percy says, walking towards him. He’s halfway to handing Vax the small, brown paper-wrapped package in his hands before apparently deciding against it and pulling it back. “I thought I might ask- that is, should you have the time after dinner- or tomorrow perhaps-”

“Percival,” Vax interrupts, trying to sound more irritated than he actually is to cover for his curiosity. Percy nods and gathers himself quickly.

“Please meet me in my workshop later this evening, if it’s not too much trouble.”

Vax would say that he held his pride in higher regard than said curiosity, but he would be lying. He waits an extra hour after dinner simply because he’s feeling ornery, wasting time by poking Vex’ahlia, attempting to wrestle from her why she’s so upset with Percy now when she’s been so accommodating to him in the past. Interestingly, she glares at him as if he’s to blame for her bad mood, slamming the door in his face without so much as a _fuck you_. 

No more time for dilly-dally, it would seem. 

The door to Percy’s workshop is cracked open, the heat from the forge rolling out into the coldness of the basement. Stepping inside, he expects to see Percy standing over it, working diligently on something. Instead, Percy’s back is rod straight, legs almost shoulder width apart, and arms taunt as he pulls back on the string of a bow. A makeshift target is set up on the far end with four arrows already sticking out around the middle but never quite close enough to the bullseye. Percy releases the arrow and it grazes the edge of the center dot. Vax considers congratulating his obvious improvement before the target itself explodes.

“ _What the-_ ” Vax shouts as he jumps, willing his heart to stop pounding when he sees the blast was small. He’s witnessed these at work before and berates himself for his surprise. At his outburst, Percy turns to look at him, lowering the bow and pushing up his goggles. The only patches of his skin still clean of soot are around his bright blue eyes.

“Exploding arrows,” Percy states the obvious. “I’m testing for more localized blasts. Greater focused damage with reduced collateral damage.” Vax doesn’t have to ask who they’re for, though he would still like to know why. 

“An exploding arrow is an exploding arrow, mate…” Vax says with some disdain, having been in the unfortunate radius of said arrows more times than he would like.

“Hopefully, this will be a _smarter_ exploding arrow. Less unintended destruction,” Percy says, setting the bow on the table and reaching beneath it to take out another homemade target. He sets it up at the end of the room, side stepping the obliterated pieces of the old one.

“You didn’t ask me down here to watch you blow things up, did you? I’m sure Grog would find it more riveting.”

“Not at all!” Percy walks over to his desk to pick up his glasses and the package from before. A sudden nervousness overtakes him, his movements becoming a bit jerky and mouth opening several times before he gives up and hands it to Vax. Vax stiltedly takes it, worries briefly that Percy has found another cursed item and is relinquishing it before anything bad can happen, and looks up to Percy expectantly. “You… I know this isn’t what you wanted from me. And try as I might, Vax, I couldn’t quite think of what else to do. I’m not… not as good with apologizing as I should be. Though my words are sincere, I acknowledge that I don’t always speak my mind as clearly as needed. But what I lack in eloquence-” Vax snorts. “-I can only make up in craftsmanship. Yes, I tend to buy Vex’s forgiveness with new toys; I know I can’t expect the same to work with you, but I… I didn’t know what else to do,” he repeats, wringing his hands a bit. Then adds, sadly. “We haven’t spoken amiably in some time; some days it seems like you’re avoiding me. I miss talking to you. I miss the easy company we once had. I…” 

Percy stops talking and Vax stops breathing. 

Slowly, Vax looks down to the package in his hands, taking in the weight of it. There’s heft to it, though it’s not heavy. It’s small and thin. Exhaling shakily, Vax begins to tear the paper back. Something is wrapped in a black cloth inside, and pulling a corner of it to the side, he sees a sleek and deadly looking dagger. The edges are a brushed steel that gleams in the low light of the room, but brighter still is the white stone that is inlaid into the body of the dagger and running down to the hilt which is a continuation of the same steel. The stone shines with a faint blue glow, unnoticeable until he gingerly tips it side-to-side. An enchantment. 

“If I may,” Percy says, gently plucking the dagger from the black cloth. 

He holds it by the tip rather than the hilt, turning to face the target several feet away. He waits a breath before throwing it with appalling amateur form. Despite this, the dagger embeds itself very near to the bullseye. The stone radiates a brighter blue than a minute ago before fading again. Percy jogs to retrieve it and hands it back to Vax, a pleased smile on his face.

“Do you see?” he asks excitedly. Vax blinks down at the beautiful weapon before picking it up himself, affixing it to his Blink-Back belt before holding it up again. He thinks he has an idea, yes. To test it, he looks at the bullseye of the target…. and intentionally throws too far to the left, his form still perfect. The dagger, in spite of his self-sabotage, hits the target dead center. A second later he feels the weight of it back at his waist. 

“An accuracy enchantment,” he says, excitement tinging his voice against his better judgement. Percy nods.

“Yes! Now, it's absolutely worthless for one-on-one combat, please, for your own sake don’t ever try. However-” Vax throws it again as Percy speaks, this time with intentional aim and the blade sinking far into the center of the target. “-it is unmatched as a throwing knife. It also has a distance equal to that of a long bow.” He adds that last part a bit hastily, as if it were a side-thought, but Vax spins to look at him with wide eyes as the dagger returns to his belt. 

“ _A long bow_ -”

“About 120 feet, yes.”

Vax pulls the dagger out with two fingers, holding it in front of himself as he bounces in place, wondering if this sudden rush of giddiness is what Vex feels every time Percy presents her with something. 

“ _One hundred-twenty fucking feet?!_ Percy, please. Please tell me you didn’t sell your soul for this. About five other entities already have claim to it for all I know, please tell me you didn’t-”

“No, no , no!” Percy intercedes. “I crafted it myself, I swear. Our friend Allura was kind enough to begin enchanting it for me a week ago. Even though her tower is still under re-construction, she was very accommodating… once I promised to have her shipped a sum of white stone for the base of her home and a… rather obscene amount of gold.” Something clicks inside Vax’s mind. 

“Is that why my sister wants your head and mine?”

“I… dipped rather deeply into the party funds. She’s abysmally cross with me at the moment, as she was there when I paid Allura and picked it up today. I imagine it will take more than arrows to cool her temper.”

And like that, something falls away from Vax like an uncomfortable, cumbersome blanket hitting the ground. His sister is furious with Percy. Finally, _finally_ , someone other than himself is holding the man accountable, even if it’s for something as stupid as money. 

Well, clearly Vex has her own priorities. 

And with her anger comes an odd sense of freedom, as if Vax no longer has to cling so tightly to his own. Holding the dagger more securely, he thinks he understands, just a little, that Percival Fredrickstein Von Musel Klossowski de Rolo III is frustratingly easy to forgive, if only because he works so hard for it when he believes it counts. And apparently, to Percy, Vax’s forgiveness does.

“I’ve grown very tired of nearly losing people I love,” Vax says quietly, because it needs to be said.

“Please know that I would never hurt Vex’ahlia intentionally-”

“Yourself included, you infuriating, reckless bastard.” 

Percy looks at him confused for a split second before Vax kisses him. This time, he doesn’t immediately pull away. The taste of steel shavings and soot isn’t the most pleasant thing in the world, but _this_ is what Vax has always imagined Percy would taste like, hard work and metal and heat, rather than the stomach turning taste of blood. Yes, in comparison, this is far more enjoyable.

Hands tentatively circle his waist before growing bolder and pulling him in closer, lips and tongue working against his own for a long minute. 

“Do be reminded,” Percy whispers against his mouth, hands skimming hotly around Vax’s sides, “that this dagger is useless in melee and that attempting to kill me _now_ would be very rude.” Vax blinks before realizing that he was still holding the blade even as he brought his hands up to pull Percy’s face closer, the tip of which in now skimming Percy’s shoulder and catching his work shirt on occasion. Hastily and with embarrassment, he shoves into his belt and returns his hand to Percy’s hair. There are still many complications surrounding their lives. Political change, reconstruction, and decaying corpses on the front lawn. But for now, _for now_ , Vax chooses to ignore them.

“Another time, then,” he breathes next to Percy’s cheek. He feels Percy smile more than he sees it.

“I would expect nothing less.”

**Author's Note:**

> I've lost all control of my life and binge watching 44 episodes of CritRole is the cause.
> 
> (Did you know you can find me on tumblr at jettiebettie.tumblr.com? It's true.)


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